


Round and Round it goes

by Anima_Lira



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Running Away, Slavery, Trigger Warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:33:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27635495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anima_Lira/pseuds/Anima_Lira
Summary: It might be nice to be the demon for once.
Relationships: Bakura Ryou & Kaiba Mokuba, Bakura Ryou & Yami Bakura, Bakura Ryou/Yami Bakura
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

"I will be gone for a while."

No answer came, but the white-haired hadn't counted with one anyway, just put his jacket on, went back to the bed in order to pull another blanket over his mirror of a human and left in silence, a satisfied smirk clearly visible in his face.

The remaining white-haired waited until there was no way the other would just be back at any moment again, then threw away the blanket and stood up, walked around; from the bedroom to the bathroom, to the kitchen, passing the guards standing there, daring them to tell him to go back to bed. They were supposed to do. Supposed to make sure he wouldn't do something he wasn't supposed to do.

They also loved having an easy job. No words came.

From the kitchen he went on, out to the balcony, looking down at the ground and imaging to fall or be thrown down in a fit of the other's anger or due to another mind game. Or maybe he should just do the task himself already. It wouldn't take very long, would it? He went closer, begun to heave one leg in order to climb, when his chained wrist was grabbed and he was forced back a few steps.

"We will have to tell the master about it."

The voice of the man dragging him back inside and onto the bed he wasn't supposed to leave in the first place sounded rather quiet, as if ashamed of his own words. Or maybe just annoyed at him being difficult, maybe he was afraid for his job.

Again, blankets were thrown onto him, wanting to tie him up, chain him down like the shackles around his neck, wrists and legs did. Ryou closed his eyes, waited for the time to either stop or pass by already. Dinner was brought after a while, he didn't even bother to look at it, only sat there and ignored the plate on his bed, because he could. More time passed. Soon the spirit would come back and then the same game would be played like the last times.

The spirit would be angry if he refused to eat again. He didn't care about the spirit's opinion anymore though, so it didn't matter. More time passed. Nothing interesting occurred.

"You should consider just eating. The master will be in a bad mood otherwise, boy."

"Who cares."

The guard probably looked like he wanted to say more. This one had been odd from the start, always wanting to talk with him. But before he could open his mouth again, the alarm system broke, caused him to focus on the front door and on the noise that came from it all of a sudden. He couldn't care less. He really, really didn't care at all. The man called out to his companion, loud and harsh.

"Did someone broke in?"

"Who would be stupid enough? The punishment for thievery is high as hell."

"Not high enough unfortunately."

The guard disappeared to join the other one in order to check on the noise and Ryou used the opportunity to once again get rid of his blankets and stand up, probably throwing over the food in the process. It didn't matter, because he wouldn't have eaten it anyway.

A storm was going on outside by now, clearly to see through the big window with bars in front of it. Ah, right, bars. The balcony wasn't supposed to be open, normally. A mistake? Part of another game? He couldn't bring himself to care, continued to stare at the window. Rain, jumping against the glass as if it was on a suicide mission, wanted nothing more than to end its own useless existence. And what could one blame it for? Its only purpose was to fall down in order for other beings to take advantage of it. What a useless existence indeed. He wanted to be like that, wanted to be like the rain no one cared about. Just fall down drop by drop by drop...

More noise came, a shot fell. So yes, there was a thief. Not the best place one would rob, but the poor fellow knew that them self now. He waited, knowing that while one man took care of the, now not so breathing body anymore, the other would come back and lead him towards the bed once more in order to not get punished too badly for allowing him to leave in the first place. The spirit had made sure he would.

The shackles around his wrists jiggled when he moved them up to touch the window and once again he noticed how tiresome this whole charade had become.

_"Don't be like that, little mortal. I have been good to you haven't I? Don't think I won't-"_

Not even the imaginary voice of the other inside his head was sufficient enough to go through with its words, stopped because he didn't bother to think the thought to its end. Tiresome. So, so tiresome indeed. He lifted his hand again, thought about smashing the window until it or his wrists gave in. There was no use in it beside the satisfaction that he could see how blood or shattered pieces fell to the ground and created another noise to mute out the dripping rain for a tiny little moment. So he let it be for now.

Steps, slow, silent. As if the strange guard was counting with a panic attack again, a try to harm himself at any moment. It brought a grin on his face and he turned around slowly, just for a bullet to be shot through the window right next to him.

"Don't move."

No shattered pieces of glass fell to the floor, the bullet had gone straight through, was probably still flying through the sky until it found another target or lost its drive. Probably the latter, considering how high off the ground the apartment was.

"Put your hands up."

Though the bullet was nothing in comparison to the one holding the gun. Ryou slowly lifted his hands, jiggling chains breaking through the silence. The one threatening him, gun in both hands, was a child. A rather small one too, the mask on his face pulled down to the neck.

"...Why are you wearing these?"

"Bad sense of humor."

How did that kid get in here? Why in _here_?

"Whose?"

"The apartment owner's."

The child didn't look like he even needed to go robbing rich people. Or people at all. He looked more like the one people would rob. Big blue eyes stared at him in complete confusion for a moment, then the boy caught himself again, going back into his act.

"Don't do anything that will make me shot you. Where is the money in here?"

His arms were beginning to get tired, not used to do anything anymore. Holding them up for so long was hard.

"I don't know."

"Help me search then. One funny move and you will end like the guards."

So they were dead? For real? He nodded slowly, let his hands drop again and moved to one of the closets. At first he thought the child would make him search on his own while watching him from a safe distance, but then shortly after there was movement and black hair poked in his shirt while the boy opened the drawer next to him, begun to search for valuable things as well.

The gun was in the pocket of his coat, he needed only to reach for it to get it. Ryou abandoned the closet after searching through it, made his way to the next one. For a while, it was just silent.

"Does jewelry count as well?"

"Yes, if it's real."

"Then I found something."

And something it was. A full drawer filled with it, sparkling in the dim light of the lamp above. He wasn't surprised about it. The child ran to him, took a look at the treasures.

"That will do. Help me put it in the bag."

Lifting the stuff was tiresome too, but he managed, did it again and again until the bag was full. And heavy too.

"I still want to look for money."

They continued searching for money. They found nothing in the bedroom, leaved for the kitchen. He saw the guards lying on the floor, unconscious or dead. No blood to see though, and their chests moved up and down from time to time if he wasn't imagining it. He searched the cabinets like there actually could be something in them, searched with the kind of enthusiasm he hadn't had in a while.

"I found something!",

the boy shouted at last and he went over to the drawer. Indeed, a few bills were lying around in it, as if the owner just needed a place to throw them in. The white-haired took a closer look at it.

"That's not very much."

"No, it's not. But I guess it will do too."

The child grabbed the money, stuffed it into his expensive looking coat and almost let the gun drop to the floor in the process. Then he went back into the bedroom to his bag, and for the lack of anything better to do, Ryou followed him, wanting to watch what he would do next. The black-haired was trying to get the bag up and on his back, miscalculated and let something drop out. Then he put the bag on the ground again, made sure to close it properly this time.

"Who even _is_ the owner of this apartment?"

"Not me."

"And who _are_ you then?"

The question rang hollow in his head, but he paid it no mind.

"Just someone."

"You're not their child, are you?"

Who would put their child in chains? Then again, he wouldn't put it past some people anymore, maybe the point was valid. He shook his head.

"No, I'm not."

"...Were you kidnapped?"

Why was he asking all that? Had he forgotten his act completely by now? He really must be doing it for the first time then, probably. The white-haired shrugged his shoulders.

"You will need to move soon."

At that the eyes widened again, then looked away from him, back to his bag, as if he had only remembered now.

"Don't tell me what to do. Are those...", he pointed at the shackles on him, "... _things_ on you made of gold?"

_"A real treasure, aren't you?"_

"Yes."

"Then... I will take them with me too!"

"I don't have the key to them."

It was almost funny to watch the black-haired as he tried to come up with something and how he just gave up thinking and went back to the gun in his pocket in the end.

"Then I will just take _you_ with me. Get dressed and move, before I paint the floor with your blood."

The words were spoken with ease and had he cared enough, he might have taken them for a real warning. He shrugged his shoulders again instead, went back to the closet to pull out a jacket. It wasn't his, because he didn't leave this prison, but it would do anyway, and it was warm.

"Now that I think of it, just pack your stuff together, then we will leave. And you will carry the bag."

"The bag is heavy."

"One more word and I will shoot you."

He pulled out more clothes and randomly put them in another bag that wasn't his, took shoes that weren't made for his feet at all. Putting them on with the shackles still on was painful, but he didn't mind, stood up when he was done and went to grab the bag. The child looked at him out of his big ~~familiar~~ eyes, judging him like he was about to be shown off to somewhere important.

"Get another jacket. I've seen a white coat in there. Also, get your hair done, you need to look the part."

What part? He took off the black jacket, let it drop to the floor and stepped on it with his shoes on his way to the closet. The white one then. He made his hair, let the brush fall when he was done. It landed next to the jacket, creating a noise loud enough to overshadow the rain outside for a moment.

"Good", the boy said, turned away from him and started to move to the door.

"Now we can leave. Don't stay behind."

The bags were heavy, his legs hurt under the weight and from the chains that pierced into his legs, as they were intended to do. He moved slowly, step by step, out of the bedroom, to the kitchen, to the hallway he wasn't supposed to be in, passing doors he wasn't allowed to open and on through the door he hadn't seen in years.

"I said no staying behind! Now come!"

The angry voice let him make the final step, and if any remorse or fear had been left inside him, it drowned in the ongoing complains of the black-haired child, just like the rest of the noises underneath the all taking rain.


	2. Chapter 2

"Stay straight!"

The white-haired obeyed, still holding the six necklaces that were handed to him from the bag in his hand, held them as if they were some things he had never seen. He looked awfully young, even beside him, but it was old enough to not be kicked out at the first glance. Which was enough, and if not, he still had a gun.

They entered the first shop, were attended to immediately. Mokuba was worried for a moment that he would have to not only do the talking, but also play a little kid, but the other boy put on a smile like it had been painted on him all of a sudden, held up the golden items as if it was completely normal for him. The exchange happened fat, the money was easy to get and not even a glance was thrown after them when they left.

"Hand me the money."

The money was handed to him, he grabbed it, took a look at it and put it away. That was good, that would be good. It would work out just fine.

"We will go to the next shop now. Do you understand?"

All he got was an absent nod, but he wasn't expecting anything from a slave anyway, he was worthless after all, just like the rest, as his big brother always said. The black-haired shook his head, forced the thoughts out of it. The water that had been on top of his umbrella dropped down with speed, was thrown in all directions, made the coat of the other wet in the process.

This here had nothing to do with Seto, this was all him. They made their way to the next shop, sold another few jewelry - never too much, he wasn't stupid. Again, he tucked the money away. He would need money. Money was what ruled the world, money would be the key to prove himself in this world, proving himself to the brown-haired, so he would finally- he shook his head again. This were silly thoughts, no need to think them to the end.

"Have you been in there all your life?"

It happened, and since slavery had been legalized in the country again due to some events no one bothered to talk about, it wasn't even less frown upon now a days. He knew that if he had been still an orphan at that time, things would've looked very different for him. He knew that all the children of their old orphanage were sold out by now, no chance of ever being free again.

But that didn't matter for him, he had other things to worry about. The boy shook his head, and if it lifted a pressure inside him, he ignored it.

"Do you know how to use a bus? We will drive to the next part of the city and continue selling."

Another nod, no need to seen in speaking to him like he deserved. But it was alright, the silent minions proved to be the most valuable in their own way, it was fine. The boy leaded them to a bus stop and then they had to wait until a bus arrived. It was such a strange concept, really, this bus. Like the whole world was going down at the moment, but this things still worked.

"Taking the bus will cost money."

"Pay for it then."

He handed the other a few bills, couldn't be bothered to pay for a ticket himself as they got in the bus. It was less suspicious like that anyway, since he couldn't keep himself from staring at all the standing people inside it, dressed for work and looking like they took this thing every single day. The black-haired sat down on a seat, forced himself to shift his gaze outside of the window instead.

The city was covered in rain; it fused all the colors together to one. If Seto had even noticed that... no, he wouldn't think about it. He wouldn't think about it, he would prove his worth before thinking of it ever again.

"I want to stop here. Make it stop."

Green eyes stared at him in pure blankness. Then the white-haired lifted his hand, pressed a button. The bus came to a halt a few moments later and they got off.

"There are at least two shops in this place. We will keep on doing the same as the last times."

Again, no answer. But the other had gotten slower, was breathing in big and heavy takes. Like someone that had failed.

"Don't stay behind."

No comment came, no complain nor "yes of course", just silence. It was strange, but he worked with it, stopped himself from calling the other out for another three times, no matter how much the slow pace bothered him. They got the job done and once they had left the last shop, pitch black darkness had filled the sky, only held at bay by all those street lights.

The boy was staring into it (which he only noticed because he had ended up walking next to him in the end), head lifted up in the process of it, as if the umbrella wasn't there to block his view at all. Maybe he just didn't see anything, didn't need to see anything.

"When was the last time you've been outside?"

It took a while for the other to answer, long enough for him to accept angrily that there wouldn't be one at all. (Why did he even bother with it? He really was way too soft after all.)

"I think it's been quite a while. It's cold."

Because his coat didn't protect him at all. Mokuba swallowed down any feeling that wanted to over throw him for no reason, concentrated. No use in continuing anymore today, he would invest his time better if he found himself a place to stay for now, before the new curfew started. Which only left the boy to deal with.

Since he was more or less done now, there was no need to bother with the white-haired any longer. He didn't even remember why he had done so in the first place, clearly it had only slowed him down with how weak the other was. His gaze hardened, he lifted his chin.

"You can go now, I'm done with you. Bye."

He walked away with that, ~~slower than he would have,~~ almost counting that he would be followed anyway.

He didn't know if he was glad or sad when that didn't happen. But he threw off any thoughts about it, shook his head. The child was now outside of that place, had a bag full of jewelry and clearly enough grips to get rid of it for money as long as he used his head. If he wanted to, he could start a new life too. If he decided to run back to that place that had chained him down in the first place, then there was no helping him anywhere. Not that he had wanted to help in the first place. Helping other's was for the weak and stupid.

Though if someone went as far as chaining the boy down, then that must mean that he was really, really wanted by someone, right? By in whatever sense that was, but someone wanted the other. And him?

Again, Mokuba shook his head, walked straight to the next inn and demanded a room, making sure to weigh up everything he lacked for one with money. People were so easily corrupted, all that it took was a bit of money and the whole world would lie at your feet, as easily as that. He got his room, locked it and let himself fall down on the bed. He was tired from today, needed sleep if he wanted to ever do something worthy of earning recognition.

He would need to do something big for that to work, something very big. Maybe once he had sold everything of the jewelry, he could buy a cheap company and start to rebuild and reconstruct it until was twice as useful? He could do that, buy something on the countryside and revolutionize it so that it would be a big hit in the cities.

He could do it, surly he could, there was no doubt about it. He would do it, right in the morning, it would be the first thing on his mind. He would show him. He would show him, no way in hell he wouldn't, he totally would!

With that he drifted away to sleep, finding it without any problems at all. It wasn't until the next day, when he realized his big stupid mistake.

~...~

Ryou hadn't felt this cold since a long time, his coat that wasn't his almost drowning in water, completely soaked by now, despite the umbrella above him. He didn't mind though, enjoyed the coldness and his numbing skin, the burning pain the metal around him caused and how tiresome it made all this in the end too.

He had stood here since the child had left, not really sure what he should do now. He could always do nothing, had gone with that conclusion, but his eyes became heavier with every passing second and he didn't feel like sleeping outside in the rain just yet. Maybe in a while, but for now he should just look for a place to stay in and dry himself.

Or maybe not. How would he know? The bags on his back were way too heavy by now and he didn't know why he was even standing still in the first place. Maybe because the cold had frozen his limbs so much that there was no chance for him to move away from the one spot he was supposed to be in apparently.

He took in a breath, deep and long, then started to walk forward. His legs protested, but he didn't care, walked underneath the rain as long as he wanted to, only considering doing something else once he found something familiar in front of him. The bus stop.

He could take one, still had the change of the bills the other had given him, it wouldn't be a problem and he could sit in the warm for a while. But to where should he drive? Back to the small room that has been his ~~(their)~~ own for about a full week before that necklace came and everything went downhill forever? Back to that place?

He shook his head, but stood still anyway. He wouldn't go back, not even to burn that hell to the ground. But what should he do then?

He didn't really want to do anything. The bus came. He didn't go in. It became colder. He remained there, remained there in the rain, watched the buses pass by and by, but couldn't care less anymore, even when his vision begun to blur together with the dark sky his head was faced towards, now that the umbrella wasn't in his way anymore.

But he didn't pass out. No matter how much time went by, no matter how often he thought to hear another bus, he remained awake. Why did he remain awake? That was stupid, in every way, but he hadn't the nerves to really be upset or angry about it. It was cold. Time passed. And passed, and passed, and passed, and passed again. Cold. Warm.

Eyes, eyes too cold, eyes too warm. Water dripping down everywhere.

~...~

No matter what he did, the morning came eventually, the rain had stopped and his limbs had become numb. It had been nice enough, he guessed, this little trip outside. But since there wasn't a place for him to return too, there was no need to go on with this. Ryou stood up, shook his shaking limbs until they were halfway useful again and begun to walk forward through the town.

Now how to end this all. A bus perhaps? But he wasn't fast enough for that, if he had bad luck, the driver would react too fast for the attempt to work and then there would be other problems to deal with. It might be better to not involve anyone around him in the first place.

He still had two bags on his back, hadn't dreamed that part.

A high building then? Or a deep river, to make everything come full circle? Well, he didn't need to hurry, really. He had money. He could take the bus or the train and ride to a place with less people. Maybe completely out of the city, to the quieter regions of Japan. He could search for a place there all he wanted, no one would bother to look twice.


	3. Chapter 3

And what a big and stupid mistake it was indeed.

The black-haired avoided to look directly into the mirror in fear of seeing how much of a failure he looked right now, got dressed and aggressively ate up his ordered food before pulling on his coat and leaving.

This was stupid, a completely avoidable mistake that had only happened because he had been too lost in his thoughts and stupid emotions. At this rate he would sooner become a clown than someone respected. The food had tasted horribly and Mokuba almost wanted to go back and tell the owner how awful it was, but he kept it back, just continued with his way, took out the money in his pockets and counted it while walking, not slowing down a bit. He put the bills back once he was done, made up his mind.

Truth be told, he had no idea how to start and what to do, but he was determined to do anything, even shoot someone in cold blood if needed, he wouldn't hesitate, wouldn't show any weakness at all, not even towards a child. He would get hold of minions to do his bidding later, now he needed to make sure to get more money, preferably without having to go through half of the city first in the process.

Money would always be the most important thing in this rotten world, without a doubt. So of course he needed more of it, without having to lose the one he already had. This shouldn't be too difficult, he already had seen how the people reacted when they saw an opportunity before them, it didn't took a genius to figure that out.

He would trick a few idiots into giving him their money and then forgetting all about it. Maybe with capsule monster, no one but Seto was able to beat him in this, and Seto wouldn't be there.

It probably wouldn't make enough money, but it was a start. It would be a start. He would make it a start.

It was still cold outside and chills ran down his spine, but he refused to stop and close his coat, or walk any faster. If he wanted to be seen as someone, he would need to learn not to show any weaknesses. It took some time, but after a few hours of passing by other people and slaves doing their work, he finally found them, the idiots he needed to make more cash.

"Follow after me."

They were young, not much older than himself, which was the perfect age to overestimate oneself and think way too mighty about everything one could do.

"You are pretty bold to think that you could win against us kid, don't you think you took your mouth a bit too full before?"

"Wanna back out?"

"Of course not!"

They searched for a place less crowded, and just like predicted by him, he won easily against both of them. They were reluctant to hand over the promised money though, suddenly showed their true faces.

"Why the hell do we need to listen to you punk? We can just beat you up if you don't hand the money over right now-"

Again, he was really glad that he had been sharp enough to carry the gun with him. The problem was gone with that, he got his money, the two boys scattered fast enough and everything was fine. Though it did kind of sting that they were such sore losers. But it didn't matter, he just would do better next time.

And he did, the charm of being a vulnerable child got him into the company of different groups, from amused women to men that reminded him of their stepfather, even to slave traders that didn't get the rules right this time and wanted to add him to their collection like he was just dirt. It made him angry, but it also made money, so there wasn't anything to really complain about in the end, as long as he had his gun. 

Though carrying around so much money - no, it was alright, he was untouchable right now! But maybe he should buy himself a slave to- no, he wouldn't want to watch for a knife in his back all the time. That would be ridiculous, even if Seto's slaves would never dare to stab him - he wasn't Seto. But he would get what he wanted too soon, he would!

It had gotten dark by now, the sky looked like it was about to rain again, and it had become colder than yesterday, money didn't keep very warm, only took space in his pockets that his hands could've used. He really shouldn't have left the damn bag with that boy. Had that been a slave too? Though probably not the legal kind, because the system here was corrupt to the bones, he knew that, wasn't stupid.

Not that he cared what the damn lad did, now that he was free again or something. But if he were to be found again - and he probably would be found again pretty soon with that gaze - then he would most likely talk to the one who found him. And the one who probably would at this rate, was familiar enough with Seto for his big brother to bother to keep his address on his desk, which meant...

The black-haired kicked a can that was lying on the floor, suppressed a curse that he shouldn't even know of yet, kicked the can again. He was so stupid! He should've just masked himself, gotten the stuff and gone, what had he been thinking?! It was his first try and he had already made so many mistakes that it was laughable!

Not only had he lost the treasure he had risked getting caught for, now they would know who he was and - was that why the white-haired hadn't acted like he was supposed to? Had followed after him like an agreeable good pet, had carried the stuff - and he hadn't even taken the chains in order to sell them. It was stupid, just stupid. But it couldn't be helped now, was already done. He continued with his way through the semi dark alleys, wanted to make sure to find another inn for the night. (But it wasn't dark enough for the keeper to be bribed in the open yet.) With the new curfew for children he had to be careful. Not of to be taken home though, the "police" didn't care about that at all. (And why would they. The new government didn't either.)

He walked and walked, but the alleys just didn't end, only continued like they were under some sort of spell. It got darker and darker with each step and Mokuba hurried, almost ran at last, wanted to get away of whatever made him that afraid all of a sudden.

What was that? He had walked into this just fine a few minutes ago, why was it impossible to leave? Or was it not and he just was overreacting right now? Was he? He ran and ran, couldn't help but look behind every now and then, had almost crashed into a wall twice due to the always changing direction like in a maze; everything became closer and closer. Why was it coming closer? He couldn't imagine it, he wasn't! The walls were coming closer! And he needed to get out-

Up the walls, up as fast as he could with the weight in his pockets slowing him down like that, away from the maze that was so dark, away, just away. It wasn't over yet though, as if the shadows were not done with him yet - Mokuba knew it, even though he didn't see it. He needed to get away!

He had made it up on the roof in pure terror, up and up until he could see the sky and the streets again completely at last. He sighed, took in another breath. It was gone. That shadow was gone. And now he really needed to get into a room and make plans for the next day. He needed to... what was that sleepiness that wanted to crawl over him?

To lull him in and make him motionless in the progress, it was getting stronger as well, he had to take hold of the ground beneath him in order to not risk falling down out of a sudden. It was strange. Luckily, it disappeared soon enough again, so he could continue balancing from roof to roof to roof in order to finally get down again.

He did after a while, shaking knees and twitching hands trying to somehow hold him up, ready to go inside the same inn like yesterday, even though he had wanted nothing to do with it anymore. Truly, what an accomplishment. At least the one behind the desk was the same easily bribed man as yesterday. Mokuba was almost glad that he hadn't said how shitty his food had been.

"That shouldn't become a habit of you, kid."

Almost. The words sounded like an advice, but he wasn't naive enough to not take it for what it was; a warning. He could be sold by this one if he wasn't careful. He got his key and disappeared to his room, ready to do nothing of what he had wanted to do this morning, just go straight to sleep. Big brother surly would laugh at his foolishness by now and tell him how dumb he was.

But Mokuba would show him, would make sure he would accept him again. He sighed, took off his coat. He had wanted to stop thinking about Seto until it was done, but apparently he wasn't even strong enough to control his own thoughts. Pathetic.

There was a flash of silver outside of the window and because it had caught his eye, he turned towards it in order to take a better look at whatever he had seen. And there he was, the boy he had left with all the treasures like a complete idiot, sitting on the railing of the balcony of the room across to his, looking down into the dark street beneath them.

It looked so strangely, the picture it gave him, as if it was nothing but an illusion in the end. Mokuba slowly went to the window, opened it and walked out. He took a minute or two to gather his thoughts, before calling out to the white-haired slave.

"Hey! Hey you!"

The yells directed at the other startled him to almost let go of the railing and fall; he caught himself before it could come to this (reluctantly though), before he looked up, facing him at last. It sure took a lot of shouting. He nodded at him and Mokuba stopped yelling, reached out a hand instead.

"Come here."

Why did he say that? He didn't want the boy here, he just needed the money and nothing else- His eyes went wide in shock, but before he could scream at the other to stop (what was he thinking? He hadn't even been able to walk yesterday, was he tired of his life?!), the white-haired had already crossed the distance with a big jump.

He landed hard on the balcony's ground, but it didn't seem to bother him that much. When he stood up, Mokuba was suddenly reminded that his gun was in the coat that _wasn't on him_ right now. He shook away the nervousness, took a better look at the one before him.

"You look terrible."

The white coat was drenched in dirt and wetness, the other's hair was a complete mess and the green eyes looked like they had been deprived of sleep for the last 100 years (in fact though, the eyes were the most normal about him). He didn't get an answer, but that didn't surprise him. Of course a slave would be used to remain silent when he was insulted. And even if the other had said anything, he couldn't care less.

"Do you still have the bag at least?"

A nod. Good, so he hadn't sold the jewelry yet. Or lost it.

"Is it in the room where you have been staying?"

Another nod. Had he sold some of it in order to get the money for the room? Or had he just climbed up to the balcony and sat there all day long? The black-haired would've thought it possible, had he not seen the other's arms himself. No way. He was imagining things.

"Do you have the key for the room?"

Again, a nod. Fine. Talking like this was getting boring fast.

"Bring me the bag then - wait, not like that!"

The other had been about to jump again with his useless legs, stopped in his tracks at the comment.

"Use the door. Walk out of the room, get the bag and walk back in here-"

He stopped in his sentence, changed his mind.

"I will come with you."

He wouldn't risk the other running off again with his treasure like last time, even if that had been _his_ fault in the first place. He went inside to grab his coat (because he wasn't stupid) and they left the room in silence. Mokuba ignored the upcoming questions inside him, forced them down again. He didn't care about the other. That was nothing but the shell of a human anyway and even if not, he couldn't care less.

All the black-haired needed to know was that the other had his bag right now. The door opened, revealed a room that, he could even tell without any lights on, was of very poor quality, way less than his own. But what had he been expecting? He stared at the white-haired expectantly.

"The bag?"

It was on the filthy excuse of a bed, lying around for everyone to see. Well, of course slaves weren't smart, even if the law hadn't been changed that long ago in the first place. It didn't matter. The white-haired picked it up and handed it him. He looked inside. Still everything there. Or at least enough for him to not care about the rest. So it didn't matter.

"Good."

He was about to leave right away and go back before he could do something stupid again (like talking to the other once more), when all of a sudden he was dragged back inside on one arm, pulled towards the wall next to the door.

"What do you think you're doing?! Let go!"

It was dark, the other was bigger and with him being pressed against the wall like that, he couldn't reach for his gun, couldn't do anything! He was about to shout at the other again, probably with far less of a strong voice, when the soft-spoken answer came.

"You didn't leave the lights on in your room."

It was not more than a whisper, as if the other wasn't used to speak much, or often, or both. He let go of him without stepping away and Mokuba reluctantly looked outside the window into his own room. Light that he had turned off, the shadow of someone that wasn't supposed to be there moving around as if searching.

It was as fascinating to watch as it was grabbing him by the throat, making it impossible to breathe. He had closed the door to his room. Had locked it too. If he had been in there - he had been about to go to sleep before seeing the other, had been completely ready to let down his guard like that, without questioning it. He would've been robbed or kidnapped and sold and he hadn't even been away for two weeks.

He was pathetic, really. They watched in silence as the shadow continued their search and left at last, throwing their arms around and seeming like they were shouting something. Not that he could hear anything. Mokuba almost regretted that he had closed up the window in the first place, otherwise there would've been the chance to hear whatever they had been saying.

Only when the shadow was gone again, having the lights even turned off after them, did the black-haired release the breath he had been holding in all the time, relaxed a bit.

"Get away from me", he spat out at last and the other obeyed, took a few steps into the room to make space. He refused to be so weak as to sink to the ground, even if he really wanted to, forced himself to stay tall and think.

But he never had been tall and thinking made him afraid right now. He knew that he needed sleep, but his legs wouldn't move even one step back towards his own room. He could stay in here instead, just throw the other out, make them change rooms like he did it with group projects at school if he didn't want one anymore- like he _had_ done with school projects. He was here for a reason now. And he still had his gun.

But what if the white-haired would go and speak to the one who wanted him? To the owner or to a stranger, to whoever, because he had found himself a new master by now, not being able to do anything against it. Would the other tell on him if he let him go? He could lock him up in the bathroom instead so he wouldn't be able to leave and also wouldn't be able to harm him in his sleep.

But what if he would just go through the window like he did with the balcony just like that? In that case he would just stop him for a really short amount of time- he couldn't keep up with this, it was too much. Should he just shot at him instead? Not in order to kill, just to immobilize him - but could he sleep while the other would cry and sob like a little bitch?

Seto would. Of course he would, would be able to pull through with it without wasting any time at all. But him on the other hand... he looked up to the white-haired. Had he said his name already? Mokuba had forgotten already. But it clearly was the same boy from the apartment of the "friend" of his brother.

Maybe if he couldn't trust him to be fearful enough of him and his weapon, then he might be able to get this slave to work for him with another method.

"What was your name again?"

"Ryou."

He took in a breath, forced himself to go on, now that he had the attention of the other. If you can't beat your enemy (then you are worthless), try to work with them instead and then make them work for you.

"Tell me Ryou, why did you hide me from the window? What business do you have with me being found or not?"

"None at all."

The answer came faster than he had expected, but that didn't matter. The slave surprised him again, even went on.

"There was no reason. I just felt like it."

"Did you now. Try again without lying."

It must have been a sentence the other must have heard quite often, but it didn't change his posture at all. Though had the light been on in here, he would've sworn that the other's eyes just narrowed, staring at him silently.

"I didn't lie."

Of course he did. People always lied in this kind of situation, it just was like this, no need to pretend to not do it like that. But Mokuba would accept it for what it was for now, in favor of his plan to actually work.

"I will stay in this room tonight."

Because that wasn't what he had wanted to say at all, the black-haired quickly added;

"Tomorrow we can get rid of those chains around your limbs when the rest of the jewelry is sold. I can say you're my family's slave and the shackles are in need of being removed."

Now, where he'd counted with an answer, a reaction of any kind, nothing came. But he refused to look away, no matter how long the other stared at him with his stupid blank gaze through the darkness.

"And then you're free to go, no one will try and stop you then."

Again, no answer. This Ryou was stupid and dumb, really. But he couldn't chose right now, needed the deal so the other wouldn't try to betray him. What would a slave wish for if not for freedom? Everyone wished for something, it was the goal to be able to actually use that for ones own reasons. At last, a nod came, exactly when the black-haired had thought this would be hopeless after all.

"...Fine."

He ignored that he couldn't see the other's face completely, needed to get a hold on the situation.

"Good. Then I will return to my room now."

No! He moved his legs automatically, without wanting to at all, and without stopping. Why had he said that? Why wasn't he changing his words now? He wasn't embarrassed with telling the other that he would sleep here, of course not, he only needed to-

"...I don't think you should."

The quiet voice was not more than an echo in the room, but the black-haired, hand already on the doorknob and with burning cheeks he would've given everything to get rid of right now, stopped at it, turned around again. He laughed, loud and heavy, hoping it didn't sound too forced.

"Right. I will stay in this room. Don't leave either."

A nod. This was fine. He could deal with this. He went for the bed, watched the white-haired take seat in a chair next to the window. Not facing him, but instead gazing outside again, like he might have done in the first place before seeing (being yelled at by) him. Mokuba, not ready to fall asleep yet, even though he was tired enough by now, asked right away. 

"What were you doing here?"

"I was searching for a high place."

"This hardly counts as high."

Maybe he liked to gaze at the sky above then. After spending all the time inside this apartment, of course he would want to never get enough of this stupid sky again. The black-haired just got a nod as an answer and didn't bother with asking more, only making sure his gun was still next to him in the coat. He shouldn't worry, he shouldn't think about it.

Why would the slave betray him now, that would be dumb of him, he wouldn't get rid of those shackles on his own, once the jeweler noticed them he would be back to where he had been before, helpless underneath the wrath of his owner.

No, he wouldn't run away when the deal was that good. He wouldn't wait until he was asleep and take the bag and the gun away, wouldn't go to the next best place and force the worker to release him of those chains, wouldn't shot him in order to make sure no one would search for him, wouldn't... wouldn't...

He couldn't resist it, had to turn around and look at the other again. Nothing had changed, he hadn't even moved in order to relax, was still staring outside the window and into the night. He didn't turn at the sound at all.

Mokuba took in a breath and lied down again, this time forcing his eyes closed and grabbing his coat tighter, closer to himself.


	4. Chapter 4

He did fall asleep eventually, dreaming about complete trash just as he had feared.

But when he woke up again, the only thing different to the night before was that the white-haired had moved from the chair back to the balcony outside, daring himself to get sick due to the cold. Mokuba turned to his coat. It was full of wrinkles now, looked like shit. But it was still there, as was the gun in the pocket.

He left the bed, walked to the bathroom in silence, got ready to leave the inn before their room door would be smashed open in order to get him. At least the strange feeling of being watched was gone now, had drowned in all his other fears yesterday.

"We're leaving, get ready!"

They left the place, went through the day like it was nothing. It was strange, to say the least, but the black-haired dealt with it just like the last time. Selling the jewelry was fine, but the money they got didn't fit inside his coat anymore, no matter how neatly he put it away. But there still was a lot to sell and he needed the money, needed even more than he needed in the first place to bribe all the right people to overlook the fact that he was a child. He needed a place to leave the money behind for a now, so that he wouldn't need to carry it around all the time.

He knew how a bank account worked, but he hadn't one yet, hadn't needed one because - no, that didn't matter, he could just make one now and leave the money there, of course he could. He just needed the right timing for it to work, needed to find someone greedy enough to overlook the few rules that were there to begin with, even though everyone with more than two brain cells ignored them anyway.

It was fine, it would work out. And because he couldn't transport any more, they stopped selling the jewelry for now. Instead, he focused of the other problem in need of solving.

"Follow me", he said, made sure to speak loud and clearly. It wasn't time yet, it needed to be darker for that as well, but in the meantime, he was hungry. Very hungry, he hadn't eaten since yesterday, was hungry and finally wanted to eat something good! So a burger restaurant it was. A filthy one, but it was cheap, so it was alright.

"We will stay here until it's dark. Then we will go on with it, got it?"

A nod. He got himself a menu, ate up angrily and fast, not bothering about the glances the other people threw at him. He didn't care about them, why would they even stare in the first place, with how dirty and worn up they all were? But he wouldn't waste time with glaring at every single one of them, wouldn't.

"What are you staring at?!"

In the end he snapped at the white-haired, who just kept on looking at him out of his stupid dead eyes. It made snapping so much less funny when the effect wasn't the same as anticipated, so he stopped and continued eating. This place was disgusting; nothing in here tasted good and the people kept on watching them- watching _him_ like they knew what he had done, wanted to use him, to sell him out.

They could try. He would shoot them before, would shoot them if they so much dared to lay hand on him.

At last he was done with his second serving, finally decided that it was time for the work to continue and was just about to stand up, when the man who had sat next to them showed up in front of their table, looming over them like a shadow. Mokuba looked up, hands immediately inside his pocket, ready to pull the weapon out.

"Children should be home at this time, boy."

Right, the curfew.

"We were just about to go."

He wanted to look over at the other, but wouldn't risk to lose sight of the man. His face looked as disgusting as the place, maybe a bit more well fed. Maybe a bit more, than just _well_ fed.

"Children shouldn't walk alone outside."

"I'm here with my big brother, can't you see him? Are you blind?"

He pointed at Ryou, cursing himself for the lie. Seto would be furious if he found out that he had compared him to this shell of a human, had insulted him like that. But Seto would never know, it was fine. The man snarled at the words, laughed.

"Yes, of course. What a good little care taker. And as much of a child as you are. He can tag along, I will take the two of you into safety-"

"Shut up you punk and get your filthy hands away from me!" He begun to shout, got the attention he didn't want due to that, but it was worth it. Even if all of these people were worthless, all together they had at least a tiny bit of use. The man took back a step and the black-haired jumped for it, immediately standing up and getting out of the restaurant, making sure that no one but the slave followed him. No one did, it was alright. It was alright.

"We will continue selling now."

That wasn't what their deal had been and it also wasn't something he could really do, considering the condition of his pockets, but he didn't care anymore. And as long as at the end of this the chains were down the other shouldn't make a fuss. Not about that at least.

"Why did you just sit there?!"

He could have at least said _something_ , sneezed, done anything at all in order to get the man's attention away from HIM! Even a stranger had that much common sense, what was wrong with the other?! No answer came and Mokuba didn't press the issue further, no matter how much he wanted to - and he really wanted to.

They went on with the selling, but the shops were running out. And putting the new money into the bag wasn't that much of help either. It just didn't work out like this. And the awful taste was still on his lips. He sighed. This didn't lead to anywhere.

"We will get rid of your chains now. Behave."

They went up to the next best store, it was dark enough now after all. Fine enough. All it took was a firm voice anyway.

"I want his shackles removed."

"Oh?"

Immediately, the man behind the counter begun to look him up and down, taking in his long hair, his small frame, his expensive looking coat, he took it all in. He didn't ask if he wasn't too young after he took out a few bills, eyes sparkling in understanding and greed. An easy one. Seto would laugh if he knew how many easy ones were out there in the city.

"But of course sir. Is he yours?"

"My family's one. Don't hurt his skin, you are not allowed to give him any marks at all."

"Of course. May you follow me then?"

Mokuba pointed at the white-haired to move and they followed the man into the backside of the shop. Another glance at him, a silent question. Right.

"Take of your coat and shoes and whatever else."

Ryou did. There was silence, only interrupted with questions the man made that weren't of importance to him at all.

"Do you want to keep the chains?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to renew them with other ones? The kind that won't pierce into the-"

"No need. It was meant as a warning, he behaved, they are removed. If something will change, I will come here again."

"Of course, of course. Well then sir, he is all finished."

"Great. Lets get the payment over with so that I can leave."

It wasn't as much as he had counted with; maybe because he had thought the shop keeper would do anything to exploit him because children weren't allowed to even be here, maybe because of common sense. Who could tell. But the price was way less than expected. Or he had just thought it would be expensive and it wasn't in fact, had already been made more expensive in the first place. Who knew, who cared.

He had golden rings now, heavy and worth more than what was inside his pockets probably. This was good, this would help. He handed them to the slave and they left the shop again.

"You will stay with me for a little while longer, we will sell these as well."

A nod. Nothing in the other's attitude changed, not even with the chains off. How odd. But normal probably, he wouldn't be able to survive without someone to tell him what to do, it happened to many slaves.

(He thought so at least. In fact, he had no idea at all. Someone in Seto's office had said that once.)

"Good."

They continued. Shadows seemed to pass them by, but unlike last time, they ignored them, went on with whatever purpose they were created for. Had he really been attacked by them last time? Or had it just been his mind playing tricks on him like every time in the mansion back then? He couldn't tell and not being able to tell made him ~~(afraid)~~ angry.

"Stay straight, you're ruining your cover."

But soon Mokuba got back to his first problem. He had too much money on the hand and couldn't use it for shit, one didn't just pay in paper bills when it came to huge (legal) things like a property, one needed a stupid bank account for that and he didn't had one for god's sake!

He went on, past the place he had wanted to go to, angrily kicking out little stones of his way until he realized that he could only hear his own way too loud steps, turned around to see that the other had stopped walking for some reason, was staring at the poster of some anime he had never seen nor did care to ever do.

Ryou was staring at the thing with such intense, Mokuba almost believed he could read. He probably _could_ , now that he thought about it, and since he was still holding on to the kidnapped-and-sold version of the other's past, that shouldn't surprise him as much as it did.

"Don't stay behind, we don't have all night!"

No answer. In fact, he was totally ignored now, the other not even glancing at him, the bag put down on the ground next to him for everyone to take if wanted. It made the black-haired angry and he was sure that this was it, this was the point of changing for the slave. Fine by him, he could get that stupid bank account on his own (like he intended to in the first place) and slaves weren't allowed in the bank anyway.

So he really didn't need the other any more, not at all.

"Fine, have it your way then. Don't come crying back later, I don't need you."

He grabbed the bag - made sure it was the _right_ one - and left, fully determined to go through with this once again. He had made sure he didn't need Seto to prove himself. And if he didn't need his big brother, then he needed no one at all. No one.

The building he needed to go to wasn't that far away from him and was found soon enough too. They let him in (of course they did) and it was only a matter of time until he was waiting inside a room for the business (he had no idea over) to get done already. Normally he would've felt insulted for having to wait in the first place, but it was warm and cozy, and actually tidy inside the room, more than enough to keep his complains at bay for now.

It was also lightened up at every corner, not that he was afraid of shadows or something, only - light made it easier to wait. And wait.

Why wouldn't somebody come already? It was night, what else did those useless idiots even have to do? It wasn't like the bank had been busy or full of people when he came in, it was such an insult!

He would complain about it and make sure that they would never dare to do that again, he would make them pay! But for now; he waited, stayed on the seat he was on and let the time pass by, no matter how tired he was. He had come this far, he wouldn't lose to sleep now, no way he would! Again, time passed, but then finally, the door opened, revealing a man in a suit and a false smile on his stupid face.

He looked exactly like the other one, even rubbed his stupid hands together in the same damn way. The only change appearance-wise was that this one was older. But that was fine. He knew by now that older ones were actually far easier to bribe, because they had less to lose if something would go wrong.

"Please excuse the late appearance. Did you have to wait long, little one?"

The other had leaned down towards him, wanted to touch his hair like one of the women had done during the plays. He slapped it away, annoyed that the other would even dare to.

"I'm not a little one, I'm here for business and you will address me like that!"

He forced himself to speak these lines as confidently as possible, had repeated them in his head often enough to know them by now, even if he felt neither like someone here on business, nor like someone who deserved respect. But that was fine. He would just "fake it, until he made it" or something like that, he could do that.

The old man - not that old, but old anyway, so he didn't care - seemed lost for a moment, even irritated ~~(angry)~~ , but then the smile returned to the wrinkled face, and he laughed.

"But of course, my apologies. Then please follow me, young client, for this room is clearly not meant for business."

The man was beginning to talk strange and the black-haired was sure that he was being taunted right now, but he didn't comment on it, only followed when the other left.


	5. Chapter 5

"Now tell me, what brings a young soul like you to our humble company at a hour like this?"

Still that strange talking he only understood the half of. He was being mocked, no doubt in that.

"I want to open up a bank account."

"Yes yes, what a delightful reason. It is important to have one as soon as possible, so the next generation can learn how to properly use them, right?"

"Yes, exactly."

God, he started to hate that man, not even a minute had passed and he had already no idea what he was talking about. But he kept on humoring him for a while longer anyway, until the door to another room was opened and held open for him.

"After you, please."

And really, he had been about to go in the first place, but thanks to the words, spoken in that disgusting sweet tone, he stopped, actually looked into the space behind the door.

"Why is it dark in there?"

"Oh, no reason, really. The light must have switched off because no one was using the place. Now, after you?"

"Right." He wasn't afraid of darkness. A little darkness didn't matter at all. He forced himself to ignore his rising discomfort, stepped into the room - another hallway? - and the light turned on. It really was just another hallway. They had been going on for minutes now and all for another one? Where the hell were those "business rooms" if you had to walk through half of the building to get to them?

"This is becoming stupid!", he said, wondering if he shouldn't be that rude but losing interest to care as he turned around, facing the man. Still this stupid smile. It reminded him too much of one of Seto's big somethings that he seemed to gloat about so much. Laughter. Again, a hand tried to touch him and again he slapped away. More laughter.

"I apologize deeply for the trouble. Don't worry about the account kid, we have boys like you here every day, no one will even blink an eye."

Now he was talking straight again, that was the language he could understand. Of course money was stronger than whatever rule there was on a useless piece of paper. Rules didn't feed anyone, even if the punishment for breaking them had given him nightmares more than once already. But rules were nothing but a guideline anyway, one should stick to them if they were weak and useless.

Seto wasn't weak, so of course the rules didn't apply to him. As for himself - he had money at least. That too was something that could make one go beyond the guideline from time to time.

So they went on, finally got to the "room", sat down in there and "got down to business." He had still no (complete) idea over a lot of things that were said, but that didn't really matter, because he only needed a place to stack off the money for now so that he wouldn't need to carry it around anymore, and a card to buy big things with. As easy as that. Finally, the man nodded, rubbed his hands together once more.

"Thank you, that would be all. Your card will be ready by next sat-"

"No way. Give it to me now, don't waste my time on that."

He wouldn't let them dance on his nose, he would make them acknowledge him, yes he would! There was a flash of something in the man's eyes, but it was gone again, must have been a mix of fear and amusement.

"Fine, I guess we could make an exception this time. Say kid, what was your name again? You remind me of someone."

"My name is not of your business. My card."

He would probably lose quite some money for that card, he wouldn't reveal his true name on top of that. The man laughed, shook his head.

"Must be my imagination then. Well, follow after me once again, we will go get it, don't you think?"

"Don't start to talk like that again. We don't know each other."

He had appreciated the change of tone before, but now it was just as bad as the one in the start. And he couldn't stand the man's gaze that landed on him, because he couldn't slap that gaze off of him, not at all. It was weird, in the way that it made shivers run down his back, desperately ignored in order to not look like a weak pushover. A sigh escaped the man at last, he shrugged his shoulders, stood up.

"Just no pleasing you, I fear."

So the man started walking and he followed, just like before. Darker. Why even darker than before? This wasn't the same way, not at all.

"Where are we going?"

"To your card."

Shadows that wanted to reach for him, nudging at him slowly, unsure. He got closer to the man.

"We already left the building. This is nothing but a garage!"

No answer came, the man only continued to walk. Mokuba stopped walking (ignored the shadows, ignored them, igno-), done with this nonsense at last. Either the man would finally get him what he wanted or it was time to change strategies. The gun was still heavy inside his pocket, gave him reassurance at everything he did, because no one would be able to make a foul out of him with it.

The man stopped as well, not even two steps away from him. Too close. There wasn't something right with it. The smile on the other's face grew and he closed the distance between them, grabbed his wrist before he could go for his weapon, tightening his grip around it immediately, until he screamed out in pain, made the other hand go over his mouth to mute him out completely.

This couldn't be, this-

Panic started to rise in him, he started to struggle against the other in a useless try to get out, to get away; as he was dragged further through the place, wasn't even bothering the other at all with his strength. No matter how much he struggled, he was no match for the man, was dragged along and thrown into a car at last, rather violently. The combat with the seat hurt and he was quick to find his balance, try to get up, only to be forced back, was restrained and gagged without being able to do anything at all. His hands were just grabbed and bound together, as if he hadn't tried to get them away at all, as if he was nothing!

There was another man, watching them from the driver's seat silently, and only then Mokuba understood what was going on. He tried harder, wanted to get out, needed to-

"Stop that. It won't do much but hurt you."

This couldn't be, this- there was no way he could be-

He continued to struggle. If he could get the gun into his hands - he wouldn't need to aim well for this, just stop the car for now from driving, stop the people, stop them-

"Stop that already!"

The struck came, had his right cheek hurting and his whole head brought to the side. He turned it back slowly. The gag pierced into the skin, was short on making him bleed. It hurt. The man watched him in silence, watched him try to struggle again, then reached out to - slap him again? Mokuba flinched, until he felt the hand run through his hair, soft and slowly, opened his eyes again.

He could feel the other's sweat, could feel how it was being brushed off on his hair. Disgusting, absolutely disgusting.

"Hm. What is it with you? I want to keep you out of spite for some reason."

"Because he looks like your boss. Didn't know you could be that wicked", the other man said, starting the car.

"It is how it is. Having a tiny Kaiba in my house would be ironic, wouldn't it?"

It would be disgusting, nothing more. He shook his head, stopped when the grip was beginning to hurt, cried out through the gag, made the man stop. Laughing, he let go, pulled on the belt and closed the door, getting into the seat next to the driver, as the car started to move.

"My mistake. Just a street rat, not worth keeping. Will make a good price though."

They left the garage, getting on to the real street, going faster. His hair hurt, his face burned all over and he couldn't hear clearly through the desperate beating of his heart. A good price. He would be sold as a slave, would disappear beneath the surface, would end up with dead eyes just like the white-haired, would never... and if Seto found out that he had been this pathetic, he would- he would-

Mokuba gasped for air, feeling like he couldn't get any, like his throat was closing up on him, just like the walls in the shadows, driving him insane. He begun to struggle again. No, he needed to focus, needed to-

The other man - it was the other man, was it? - turned around for a moment, and his face, smug and tired, filled with shock once their eyes met.

"What have you done you idiot! That _is_ a Kaiba, are you blind?!"

"Are you?! There is no way that that is Mokuba, don't you think I would remember a brat I see every week?!"

They begun to argue, even louder than his heartbeat, as the passing buildings begun to blur together and his panic over being kidnapped soon turned into one of a completely different kind. Were they stupid? They shouldn't - they couldn't, they needed to stop!

He tried to say something, but the gag didn't allow him, muted out any scream loud enough for the two to care about, let alone to stop. They didn't stop. Why didn't they stop?! It was dangerous, and the blur of a light that was coming closer to them with every second looked like that of another car, they needed to turn and stop that, needed to- closer, it came closer, but they ignored it, ignored the way he was trying to point forward, too stuck up in their stupid argument to even look.

He tried and tried, to get the driver to turn around finally, to just-

A loud sound was heard, finally forced the two to face the street, to face the closer coming light and Mokuba closed his eyes, waiting for the impact to happen. He could hear on of the men curse loudly, then the whole car turned right and - just continued on turning. Another curse, a sound even louder, it felt like he was flying for a moment, stuck in time, everything going painfully slow.

Then the crush came, threw him around, forced him against the seats so hard that he thought to explode at any moment, then another turn, another loud crash. Then, nothing. If breathing had been a problem before, now it was a complete disaster, the air had been pressed out of his lungs, no matter how hard he tried, the air wouldn't come, wouldn't go in, wouldn't-

Through it all he realized that he wasn't in the car anymore at all, was lying on the ground, the seat over him, pushing extra weight down on him, as if he wasn't already suffocating - or maybe it was the door, not the seat, he couldn't tell, not at all. Air. He-

Everywhere was shattered glass, it was dark, it was silent now, there was nothing to hear, nothing to see. It hurt! Why was it silent, why couldn't he see, why couldn't he breathe?!

He could feel something dripping down on his face, even if it shouldn't be possible, he could feel it clearly, but couldn't see, even with his eyes wide open, he couldn't... he was about to pass out, could feel how his eyes were closing, how the pain was numbing down, how he wasn't feeling anything anymore, wouldn't... wouldn't...

Then the shattered glass was shattered even more and the ground next to him was jumped on, got the someone he couldn't see his full attention. Was it one of the two men, did he want to drag him back, drag him into another car, once again? The someone came even closer, and turned him around with seat and all, so that he was lying (or sitting) on his back, and again he tried to take in the much needed air.

It worked this time, even if the gag wasn't much of a help in that regard. Didn't matter. Didn't matter at all. The stranger just sat there, next to him and waited, not moving at all. He ignored him until his vision had sharpened enough to look once more, only to realize who it was at last.

"Mhhm! Uhmh!"

The boy understood - or maybe just acted logically, it didn't matter - released him from the gag, the cold fingers on his face feeling like ice in the fire he was in right now.

He spat out, trying to find his voice while also taking in more air than he could. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't, needed to think if he wanted to get- If he wouldn't get himself to think, if he wouldn't get himself to think then there was no way for him to- He needed to act rational, needed to, just like Seto would have.

"Untie me."

The other did, slowly even, taking broken bones into consideration. (Or maybe he was just slow.) He could feel his one arm, but couldn't feel the other, couldn't feel it, couldn't - no, no he needed to breathe. Even in this corrupt state someone would call the ambulance soon and then he would be taken back and everything he had done would be pointless and Seto would look at him with disappointment - if he even would look at all - he couldn't risk that, would rather die here and now than to risk that.

He forced himself to breathe, forced himself to not think about what happened to the other two, forced himself to concentrate on the boy in front of him.

"The bag", he spoke with his too hoarse voice, tried again a few times more while trying not to scream, "get it. It is here, go get-" His voice gave in, he couldn't speak anymore, couldn't, no matter how hard he tried. The white-haired looked around, then walked away from him in utter calmness, bent down, pushed away something that looked like he didn't want to think about what it was, not at all-

The boy stood up again, the bag in his hand. No sirens yet. Good. But they would come, of course they would come. there wasn't much time left, he needed to get away from here, now!

"Help me up", he ordered once the other was standing next to him again, gritted his teeth together once his body moved, free of any restrains. It hurt. Everything but his left arm hurt and that was bad, very bad. He would need to have that looked at, but this was something for later. Once he was standing again, the black-haired immediately begun to walk away from the scene, as fast as his shaking legs could carry the rest of his shaking frame.

He needed to get away fast, needed to get into safety and- He needed to get away. They left the scene, quietly, as he couldn't and the other wouldn't talk, just went next to each other in silence.

Once he believed they were far enough to not be found, he collapsed on the ground and begun to cry. Not in sadness, but in anger. He had been so dumb, so stupid, so useless!

If not for his name - if not for _Seto's_ name those men would've just let him disappear in that car forever, never to be seen again, because he was too goddamn stupid to listen to his own thoughts. He knew better than to trust anybody, he knew! He should've just pulled the gun on the man and make him either get that bank account or scat like the dirt he-

Mokuba didn't think that thought to the end, still couldn't get over the shaking of his body. He felt terrible, he wanted to throw up and scream, but he hadn't the voice to spare for that, had to move on, go on and on, always on-

His arm was grabbed and immediately an immense pain shot through him, made him scream out with his hoarse voice, while he forced himself to redirect it.

"Let go of me!"

He lashed out at the white-haired who only shook his head, looked like he had come to an inner agreement with himself.

"It may be broken. You will need to have someone look at it-"

"You don't say! Let go!"

He did this time, still looking at him. "You will need-"

"Shut up! What do you know? You know nothing, so shut up!"

He knew that he needed someone to look at it, knew that he should hurry, but the pain was too- He couldn't even think about thinking how to continue, only sobbed, sobbed he was watched in silence. But what did it matter, this way it was only one pathetic being watching another one, this way it wasn't, wasn't- He heard something, looked up again in disbelief not getting that he really just heard it.

But really, the white-haired was laughing, looked at something he shouldn't see in the darkness of the alley they were in. It was a laughter without any amusement, cold and broken, like the other wanted to scream as well right now. Then those dead eyes were on him again.

"Let's go, I know where to stay for now."

"Why should I follow you?"

"You don't need to."

He would... he would leave him behind, would walk away like he had done last time. Mokuba didn't need anyone, that wasn't it. But it was dark, cold and he was hurt and the only familiarity he had with this place somewhere in nowhere was about to just go away- He shook his head, repressed a snob, refused to be that weak.

"Help me up. One wrong step and I will shoot you."

He would, he wouldn't hesitate, wouldn't be too slow, would shoot before someone could- The slave helped him up, started to lead him further into the darkness and his good hand wandered to his pocket, wouldn't even waste time in order to pull this time - only to realize that there was nothing but money inside of it.

The same with the other pocket, his coat was basically empty, his only protection gone. He forced down the other panic attack, followed, just followed the other farther and farther, up some stairs old enough to give in under his weight. They stopped before a door, and he watched as the white-haired slowly bend down to the doormat, got a key from underneath it and opened up the door like it was something he had done a thousand times before.

He stepped inside and reluctantly, Mokuba followed at last, choosing this unknown apartment to be better than the unprotected cold outside in the dark.

He stepped in and the door closed behind him with a loud creak.


	6. Chapter 6

The light still worked. Of all the things to wonder about, to ask questions and be confused about, that was what got him to think, to stop in his process. But not for long, he stepped further into the apartment, couldn't believe his own eyes. Everything was the same, filled with dust. Even after all this time, it still smelled like bleach from that day.

He would open the windows, would open all of them.

"What is this?"

The black-haired child asked, eyeing the room skeptically, still holding onto his left arm.

"My apartment."

Ryou went further into it, left the hallway, went to the bathroom immediately, almost slamming the door open. Nothing. Of course there would be nothing, what had he been expecting?

"How can that be yours - so you were kidnapped for real?"

He nodded, left the bathroom again, went to the other rooms, faster than his legs would want him to be, faster than his mind could think. He side-stepped the child, turned on the light everywhere he came by, opened up the windows, just to get lost in that haunting familiarity. Why was this hell still standing?

What a joke. What a sick, sick joke. He wanted to scream but he wasn't in the mood to waste that energy, it would be too bothersome to do now. He could scream once all this was over.

Even the kitchen was the same as it had been. If he opened up that one drawer, then there should be... He looked at the pasta, still in the package, just looked, not quite getting why he had wanted to pull them out in the first place. He pulled out a pot, filled it with water, got lost in the flow of it. Water, flowing, dripping, overflowing, everywhere, over everything, soaking into the furniture, beginning to rot from the inside out...

He turned the pot over, refilled it, then put it onto the stove, turning off the water. Why was the water still working anyway? Why was this whole place still intact, why wasn't it, why-

He waited until those annoying feelings had died down again, turned the stove on, waiting for the water to boil.

"Ey."

The child had taken seat on a chair next to the table, still breathing like he was in huge pain but over-acting it out of pure spite. He would need proper treating at a doctor or hospital, otherwise it would- It would- Something bad would happen that could've been easily avoided, or something like that.

"Ey!"

This time, he turned around, faced the other. The black-haired had surprised him when he crashed into the tree right next to the street outside. Ryou, after having wandered mindlessly through the city and having finally having found the right spot, had been watching the traffic, making one last decision whether going to the country was even worth it. He had come to an conclusion, but before he could even set one step on the road, the car had just been _there_ out of a sudden, brushing his hair aside as it crashed into the huge tree he had been standing next to, turning over and completely destroying it self in the process, probably close to exploding.

He had just watched, not going to do anything, when he had seen the somehow familiar silhouette, took a look at it despite his better judgement. And now they were here, back in the hell he had decided to never see again just a bit ago.

"How long have you been kidnapped?"

"About two or three years."

The water was boiling, he put the pasta inside, watched as the noodles slowly drowned in the hot liquid.

"Had you been-", a short pause, a breath that was taken in too sharp, too laud to be anything but the repression of pain, "-outside of the apartment ever since?"

"No."

"Then how-", again, a pause, "-no, forget it, I don't care. I will go to the bathroom, get me food and a bed done."

Silence, since no one moved, and the water continued to boil. Then the boy spoke again, this time less loud, almost uncertain if Ryou had cared enough to listen, "Do you understand?"

Ah, right. He nodded, turned to watch as the black-haired got up to disappear through the door. Water. Drop by drop, water everywhere. The food would take some time, and even if he didn't really wanted his tired muscles to move more than absolutely necessary, it was as if they did the job for him, forced him to move anyway, to go and make place for thoughts he didn't want to think about, didn't want to think about ever again.

But what he wanted didn't seem to overlap with what he did, as he was standing in the living room, looking at it and not wanting to look at it. The chairs - they hadn't had a couch, it had been too expensive in the beginning and they never had enough peace to actually consider it later on - were full of dust, just like the rest of it, the television, the window sill with plants that were long since dead, because there was no one to water them. Even the floor seemed to be full of dust, revealed where he had stood and walked with every step he made.

As if on impulse, he turned on the machine, watched as it turned to life, begun to show him a movie, still on DVD mode. It was a familiar movie, one that he had seen countless times already. It was a worthless and stupid movie. He left it on anyway, got to go back to the kitchen, went to his former room instead. Here too, nothing had changed, nothing at all, everything slowly drowning in dust and cobwebs.

He took hold of the blankets on the bed, ripped them off, threw them out of the window in order to get rid of the dust and nearly letting go due to the power the movement had. He did the same with the pillow, ignored his hurting arms once he was done and the bed was ready. He was tired as hell, wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, let his tired limbs rest at last, preferably forever.

But he wouldn't get anything but torture from this place anyway, and the feeling without the shackles and chains around him was too new to not test out until his body would give in underneath him, force his mind to comply. There was still one room, one he hadn't turned the light on in yet, but he wouldn't go in there, even if he wanted nothing more on one hand, wanted to storm inside and search until he found what his heart ached for. He shook his head slowly, returning to the kitchen.

It wouldn't do anything to look, would only hurt him even more, he wasn't that stupid.

_Still not finished._

Time really passed by slowly, no matter where he was. Maybe it did that intentionally. Maybe not, he didn't care. Why did everything still function, why had no one else already moved inside here? Why was this stupid place screaming home at him, so loud he could go deaf, even if he hated it so much?

Who had payed for the rent? Or had the landlord just not found a proper new person to live in here and thus not cared what was up with it enough to put down any water and gas connection? Or maybe it had been recently turned on again after a new buyer was found and the landlord had never bothered to change any of the locks. At all. He wanted to know, but didn't care enough. All that mattered was that it was still the same.

He pulled out two plates and dishes, put it on the table as if on autopilot, opening the fridge, only to find rotten vegetables and a pack of milk. He closed the fridge again, turned back to the pasta, took it off and got rid of the water, then put it on the plates and waited for the black-haired to be done with searching through the stuff in silence.

He waited. And when he heard the sound of something made of glass falling to the floor, he decided to wait for much, much longer.

~...~

Mokuba couldn't believe the little card in his hands, couldn't believe it at all. But there they stood, black on white, the characters that made him tremble.

_Bakura._

The boy's name was Bakura, had been Bakura all along. Bakura. The Bakura that was... of course Seto would have his address on his table, that man was... and he had stolen from him. He had just... he had...

Forget the punishment for thievery and his brother's utter disappointment, if they found him now then-

He wanted to scream, to somehow run away from the fear that took him over. But Ryou... Ryou wasn't Bakura, right? He hadn't put on a show so far just to have his fun, right? No, he hadn't done it, wouldn't have managed, no one could play that well - Seto could - no, he was overreacting, it wouldn't be-

His breathing was becoming swallow, his left arm begun to hurt even more and his whole body was cold and hot at the same time. And not only his... if the man found out that he was Seto's brother... had he gotten the brown-haired in problems? Had he? He had, god, why was he so stupid? Why wouldn't he ever stop being a complete idiot?

This would end terrible, he had stolen money and a fucking _slave_ from Bakura, or Ryou was just playing to be one and would grab him at any moment and laugh at him and, and...

He had fallen to the floor, his legs unable to keep them self up anymore, could do nothing more than to sit there and stare. And he hadn't even his gun anymore, had lost it in the accident, he had nothing; money wouldn't mean shit if he was too weak to stop people to just take it by force in the first place! This was stupid, he was stupid, it all was stupid!

He heard movement from the kitchen, slow steps that came closer and closer. As if on instinct, Mokuba crawled back towards the wall until he couldn't anymore, tried to bring as much space in between him and the other as possible, tried to get the card and hide it, but was already too far away from it. Ryou came into the room, looked at him first, then at the ID card on the floor. His face lifted up for the first time, making place for genuine surprise to cross over it.

"It's still there, huh?"

Then he looked back at him, stepped closer. "Food is ready. Did you run out of energy?" He couldn't answer, only wanted to get away, didn't want to, couldn't- a hand was on his forehead shortly after and he flinched back, didn't dare to say anything. This couldn't be Bakura. Seto had said that Bakura was a heartless bastard and that a "sadistic ass" not worth of his time if he could help it. Ryou hadn't been anything of that so far - maybe he was the... brother?

But he had been kidnapped, that wouldn't... that DIDN'T make sense! It just didn't, didn't do at all!

"You have a fever, kid-"

"Don't touch me!"

The hand retreated immediately, as if the other had burned himself. It gave Mokuba the much needed space, but the situation didn't change. That was Bakura. Or at least a Bakura, just as bad. He was in so much shit, Seto would be angry and- and-

"Can you walk?"

The voice was softer now, a whisper, just like his own. Consideration? A considerate Bakura? The question was repeated and Mokuba nodded at last, slowly, not wanting to make the other angry for now. Terrifying, but confusing none the less. Why would someone lock a family member up like a slave? Had the white-haired misbehaved that much that the man had become that angry with him?

Would Seto do the same if he was found before he could prove himself? Would he stop after two years? Two decades? Or would he keep on doing that forever, to prove a point? What would happen? The black-haired hadn't thought of it, of course he hadn't thought about it-

"Then stand up and come, your bed is ready. You shouldn't eat with a fever, I will look if there is tea around here somewhere."

He stood up in reflex, even if his arm protested the sudden movement. He followed the white-haired to the room, without asking the questions or demanding the answers he was burning to know.

The bed was made, the window stood open wide. Cold. Ryou closed it, pointed at him to go to the bed. Reluctantly he did, climbed onto the bed, let the blanket be thrown over him like the other wanted to make sure he couldn't escape. He was tired, the day had worn him out completely, the crying, the pain and the ongoing fear were exhausting.

"Ryou?"

He wanted to shut his mouth again, was about to dismiss it immediately. (Was he stupid? He was stupid, he was so stupid!)

"What?"

The other waited, looked at him like he wasn't even really seeing him at all. Mokuba took in a breath. He wanted to ask so many things - why had he just stopped at the manga poster like that back then? (No, that was a dumb one.) Why had he put up with everything till now as if it was a nice way to entertain himself? How did he had this place, how could he act so - so! But he repressed those question, because at the end of the day, the black-haired was a coward.

"Where is my bag?"

"Still in the kitchen."

"The one that was imprisoning you - who was that?"

"A demon."

He didn't say brother, or family. But Seto hadn't called their step father by name as well, due to his deep hatred towards him. Did that mean Ryou hated Bakura as well? It meant that he wasn't the scary Bakura, right? Right? It should mean that, it really should.

"And what are you-", his voice gave in for a moment, then he had it again, "-going to do now?" Would he return to the other anyway in the end? Would he want to prove himself by handing him out like the thief he was? He needed to know, wanted to know. He didn't want to know, didn't want to know at all.

"I don't have anything to do."

With that the white-haired turned around and left, either to finally make the call that would destroy his whole life or to search for the tea. Mokuba closed his eyes and lied down completely. What a disaster. What a big fucking disaster, he couldn't believe it, couldn't believe how stupid he had been and still was.

Sleep came pretty soon though, releasing him from the pain and anxiety that was driving him insane bit by bit.

~...~

There it was, the card he hadn't taught he would ever see again. His name, date of birth, his identity, black on white, like it wanted to mock him, spit in his face and wipe over it to get the message across properly. He put it on the table, sat down on a chair, trying to not laugh too loud in order to not wake the child.

This here was funny, in the sense that it wanted to torture him with every second he was here, was breathing and living. It could be a way of punishing him for even daring to exist in the first place, but what did he know? Not much. The food had become cold, he hadn't bothered to eat anything. It wasn't worth the effort anyway, this would be over as soon as that kid had seen the doctor to get his arm - and maybe the rest - done by tomorrow, then that would be it. No more of this, he had been going on overtime anyway.

He closed his eyes, was tired from doing so much, his limbs had been running on time he didn't have as well, protested at every step he took, every move he made. But it was fine. He would put them to rest soon enough, only a little while longer. A tiny, little while... the phone rang and his eyes shot open again, as he turned towards it.

So even that one still worked, huh? Why though? How? and who?

He walked towards it, reached for it, but let his hand drop again, waited until it was over. The voice-mail went on and the one that spoke was so familiar and yet so strange. He listened to it, didn't notice how his legs gave in, got him to the cold, dusty floor. When it was over, he remained there, remained there until the urge became too strong and his hand reached, as if in trance, towards the phone again.

There were thirty of them, all waiting to be played already. He only needed to-

He pulled the button before he would collapse completely, begun to listen, and listen... when it went silent at last, he pressed the repeat button, went through all of them again. After that, he did it again.

And again.

Again.


	7. Chapter 7

He woke up and his arm still hurt. Though he could move it now, could control it in every direction he wanted to go. It wasn't broken then, right? He had no idea.

It was silent, aside from the boiling water in the kitchen. The black-haired got up, still surprised that he hadn't been sold out yet. Then again, it had been dark and Ryou was pretty slow, hadn't bothered with trying yet, if he would ever.   
  


His coat was still on and he had worn the same clothes for days now, no shower could fix that problem. Why hadn't he thought about that when he had left the mansion? Where hat he gone wrong that he hadn't forgotten the gun, but a spare shirt was too much to think of? He needed new clothes. He eyed the unfamiliar wardrobe next to him. Thought about it, thought about it some more.

He went to the kitchen with his coat closed, the new clothes buried underneath it completely. The white-haired stood there, putting noodles on two plates, two cups of tea already on the table.

On the floor was the phone - or the rest of it - shattered and destroyed completely. Mokuba took a look at the other's hands, almost covered completely by the long sleeved shirt. Dried blood, almost gone but not quite yet, still enough there to see.

Ryou looked up, pointed at the table when he saw him.

"You will need to go to the doctor after this. Your arm-"

"Don't tell me what to do!"

It had started sooner than he would've liked it, but it couldn't be helped now. Why was it like that? He remembered who the one next to him was (might be, could be, could he?), shook his head.

"I mean", he tried again, "there is no need for that. I can move my arm just fine and my voice is good again as well, see?"

He moved his arm and more or less succeeded at not showing the pain that this movement caused him.

"That may be true, but you looked terrible yesterday. You could flip over at any second."

"You don't look better. In fact, I have no idea how you're even able to stay on two legs. Besides, I have other things to do today."

"And that would be?"

"I will make a bank account for myself, obviously. "

Why had he told the other that just now? Why was he even talking so much? He couldn't care less about how the runaway slave - or whatever he was now - looked like. And hadn't he just spent a whole night in terror of being sold out by _him_? He shouldn't tell _him_ about his plans at all! What if the white-haired had wanted to bring him to the doctor only to have him taken into custody there?

It wouldn't be the smartest plan, of course not, but people could get really pathetic if they wanted to do something for someone whose approval they were after.

"I see. Do as you like then."

"I was going to. And your food tastes worse than the shit I had at the inn. Eat it yourself, you need it more anyway."

He stood up again, left the table, even if that hadn't been what he had wanted. He was hungry, the food had looked good enough! Why had he said that?! But he wouldn't turn around anymore, wouldn't- no, no he wouldn't. He was good for leaving, and his coat was still full of money, even without the gun. He would just avoid dark alleys this time, maybe try it a bit earlier and with another bank. Definitively with another bank.

He stood were he was, pulled a hand through his hair. He had done it yesterday, but he would need to properly take care of it after the deal was done. He could do this. Last night had been a moment of weakness, he would banish it and do better this time, he would be better this time. He had already gotten his shoes on again, was directly in front of the door, he only needed to go. To just go, to take the step and leave.

So why was he still waiting?! Why was he hesitating to just leave? He didn't need to apologize and he wouldn't say goodby, of course not! So why, why was he still here?!

"...What are _you_ going to do today?"

He had already asked yesterday and the answer had been clear enough. No answer came this time, made the implication even clearer. But apparently his being stupid and useless thing was still going on inside his head, because the black-haired changed the tactics once again, let his voice turn into that of someone who had to actually say something in society.

"Are you done yet? Come on already, time is running out!"

He counted to 68 after that, since again, no answer came. It was just him in the hallway, as if there had never been someone else here all along. But the the white-haired stepped out of the kitchen, the white coat put on and all the scars of chains hidden underneath clothing. Ready to go. Even if his eyes still were everywhere but here.

"Took you long enough. Do you have your ID card? It might come in handy later on."

No it might not. It might have been if they were on the same side, but - or maybe they were on the same side after all? He had taken off the shackles and Ryou had shown him the place he had been living in before being kidnapped by his probably family. Maybe they were on the same team? Or at least not on two different ones?

Maybe the other had no team and was now really just a slave without a master, not able to go on with his life like that if no one told him what to do. The white-haired nodded and they left the apartment, which looked even worse in day light. A place rats would live in. And he had slept in there like it was his last night.

"How does it come that this place was still cared for? Who paid all the bills if you weren't there?"

Money was the key in living somewhere. Once he was out of Domino, he would buy a big piece of land on the countryside and then develop a business from there. He would. The white-haired next to him turned to him and it was almost like his eyes had become darker at the question, reminding Mokuba enough of the shadows from the second night that he was ready to take back a few steps. Had it been Bakura too? So that if the boy ever was let go again the other could pretend that this whole thing had never happened?

"It was my father."

The answer was surprising, and that was all the conversation the two of them had. Even though the black-haired wanted to ask more, wanted to know more, wanted to use the dark stage of the other's mind to suggest another deal, a proposal. The other hadn't anything to do now anyway, had he? Mokuba could just... It couldn't be that bad if the alternative was that excuse of an apartment or that prison he had been in, right?

...Would he say no? Would he say anything at all? It would be fine if the white-haired kept silent and just followed his order like in the beginning, but the confidence he needed to ask just wouldn't come back. He could do this. He would face Seto one day, what was that slave in comparison? Nothing, he was nothing. This whole thing was nothing in comparison to Seto, he knew that.

"Ryou-"

No, that was the wrong approach. He wouldn't ask. Asking was indicating a choice and he wouldn't give that. A real businessman never gave other's a choice, it just looked like it.

"What? Does your arm hurt again?"

"NO! No. Ryou, after this is over, I will go to the countryside of Japan and buy a small company there. Then I will rebuild it and make it more successful that in has ever been before. And you will accompany me. You understand?"

Silence. Would the other say no? God he would, wouldn't he? And why shouldn't he, Mokuba hadn't a gun anymore and the white-haired had a father and who would simply follow a child like it was the most normal thing in the world to do, he wasn't Seto, how could he even try-

"Understood."

He had to ask for the other to repeat it, but the answer stayed the same. Just like that. The other had agreed just like that!

"And...", he wanted to stop again, because it was stupid, but his words were faster than his mind, "And I think that my arm has gotten worse again. We will go to a doctor before the bank. You used to live here, so show me the first best you get."

"Understood."

The doctor wasn't far away, but long enough for his burning cheeks to lose color bit by bit again. The man even seemed to remember Ryou, welcoming him back like he hadn't 100 people inside his office every day for the last two - three? - years. But it didn't matter; because once there had been a look on his arm, he had gotten the note that it wasn't broken, only sprained a little, that he had to be careful with it if he wanted it to heal good.

He got something around his arm (to steady it) which he wasn't allowed to take off for the next 2 weeks at least (thus making it completely useless for the time being), and Ryou payed the other... with a fucking bank card. A bank card. Why in- from where had he had a bank card now? And why was any money on that one?!

"You have a bank card."

"I do. Do you want something to eat?"

"Don't treat me like a little child. I want your card!"

"I don't think that it works like that."

"You don't need to think! Just hand it over!"

He got the card, took a look at it. Bakura Ryou. Again, the same stupid characters. How did the doctor not freak out? The name alone should be enough to worry for one's life! He couldn't use that card.

Or could he? Would it work like the gun? A protection from people that wanted to play against the rules of the game? But wouldn't that be just like using the Kaiba name? The whole incident yesterday had only happened because one of the men has recognized him in the first place, otherwise he could've already been anywhere. If he wanted to prove himself he would need to do that without a big name to hide behind, he would need to get everything by himself and alone.

"You can have it back. There."

He handed the other the card. If he was surprised by that action, he didn't show it.

"And now come, we will change appearance before we go to the bank. It's time to see a hair-stylist."

As they made their way towards one, he overthought it once again, but the decision stood. His hair would look better short anyway. And as for the one next to him...

"You will get yours cut as well, it looks too lost and not elegant enough. Also, dye it black."

Only a nod came as an answer and then the process begun, took hours in which he wished he wouldn't have ignored the stupid noodles on the stupid table in the stupid apartment. God damn it all. By the time they were - Ryou was, _he_ had been finished after 15 minutes, really - done, it was already noon. It was time. He could do that, he would get it done. He would get this done, and if he took the one next to him with inside this time, then he did that only because the other was already here, not because he was afraid to go alone, of course not.

And it worked well enough. He still had to bribe his way into the bank, but the fact that the one next to him was the one handing the money over meant a lot apparently, or at least enough to not be kidnapped again at once. Maybe the time of the day only mattered when you were small, and once your height was considered telling enough it didn't matter as long as you had money?

If that was the case then he couldn't wait until he was grown up finally, it would be a wonderful feeling, surly it would be. Who could tell. But he wanted to be back at Seto's side at that time, so he would need to be even better than that before his height could "speak for itself" or whatever. They left the bank, his coat now a lot lighter than before and a black card in his hands.

He knew that usually it took a bit of time to get all the paperwork for that thing done. But that was only the case for legal matters, it seemed. He tried it out immediately, bought food in the first food store, could pay without any trouble. Good. If they tried anything it would end bad for him. So he would have to do the whole buying thing as soon as possible, preferable today or tomorrow, he wouldn't put it beneath a bank that had tried to just take him away the very day before.

(Well, it hadn't been _that_ bank, but they were all the same in the end, so whatever.)

"This tastes even worse than your food. Here, you can have it, I don't need it anymore. Let's search for a place that sells important stuff."

"Do you mean a supermarket, or a real estate market?"

"Of course the second one, I could buy the whole supermarket with what I have, I don't need it!"

Maybe that was what he was going to do. Food and that stuff. Kaiba-Corp wasn't really in the food branch, so if he could add this to the name it would be useful to Seto. What was the company already in though? Milk he knew for sure and water probably too. Maybe Mokuba could go with wine instead? He would need a region that was warm for that and fruit and all that would need a whole while to grow too, if he went out of money because he couldn't do the damn math then he would be without anything very soon.

This was something he should've already known before leaving the mansion, but it couldn't be helped now. Somehow he needed to be good enough to make it work anyway. Buy out a weak company and make it his own. Or should he make his own company right from the beginning?

But Seto might not like it if he had made his own company without the name, would be mad enough to maybe not even acknowledge him in the end. He wouldn't risk that, no way. He would buy out and take over a company with all the employees and so on, figure out what was wrong with it and fix that in order to get more profit.

He had been running off, stopped and looked back to the other.

Ryou was holding the almost not touched fries as if it was a weapon that could explode if it made contact with skin or ground or anything really, but he was following, the hollow green eyes on him and not wherever else. Good.

They found the place he was looking for soon and there were one to two places that were ideal and that he could buy immediately, but they were too legal for him, the people there would ask too many question that wouldn't be answered without the drop of the Kaiba-name, so he first needed a place on the country side all in all at first.

The person responsible for them tried to talk to Ryou, believing him to be the one that mattered. It really was all about the height. But since the other's face looked like the one from the car, it was fine this way. Even better, because Mokuba could watch him struggle trying and failing to talk to the white-haired at all. The houses that he saw were good and all, but he would need one that could bring more profit under the right hand, one that would go and make the difference on the market.

He needed land. Land that he could sell to other people and become rich from that, even without having to do anything. More land, much more land. But land was either very expensive, or in a condition that no one wanted to live in. What to do? He turned to the next page and his eyes widened.

"This here."

The agent came and was probably giving up on his job quality right now, enough to consider talking to the child he ignored so far.

"So you would like to purchase... this one? Are you sure about this one... sir?"

"Absolutely. Let's get over the process of purchasing it, I want to be done with this thing as fast as possible."

The buying was done fast and most of the money that had come to his account disappeared just as quickly again, not questioned by anyone yet. Hopefully it would stay that way. He had made sure to never sell too much at one shop so it would be harder to track them down. If the first apartment really belonged to Bakura (though it was a bit small for that), then the man shouldn't be able too - wait no, he had forgotten about the guards. Well, who cared, they would be gone in another day at worst, until all the connections were made he would have a company and a name to be safe and sound behind.

(Not his. But if he made a name with the company that was good, because then Seto could take over and it would be great.)

They were about to leave (he was. The black-haired would just come after him), when the agent started to talk again, stopping him. Mokuba turned around to face him once more - he was paler than before, holding onto the paper that had just been signed with his old family name like it was a damn lifeline.

"What? Is there anything else?"

He looked like he wanted to spill out a lot, but in the end, whatever it was wasn't worth the consequences of loosing well made money.

"Nothing, have a nice day."

Then they left for real. It was done. They would be out of this city soon, they had - no wait, _he_ had done it, the other was just an attachment to use for now, that was it - yes, that would be it. But they would leave anyway, and they would leave this place behind. He would get this. Yes, he would. And then, that whole thing would be over.

"Have you eaten the fries yet?"

There was no answer. But the untouched fries in the other's left hand told enough anyway.

"You need to eat."

Wait, wrong approach.

"Eat. Don't waste it."

And they continued walking back to the apartment of the other, still looking bad enough for rats to live in. He regretted not having bought more food. But it wouldn't matter, they- _he_ could buy food once they were at the place. It would be easy enough then, far more than now. Once inside, he was reminded of the bag that was still in there, almost made him sigh. He had been ready to leave this morning, had only gone back because he had decided to take the other along. Stupidity was greeting him once again it seemed.

But the bag was still there, and that was all that mattered now. They would move to the train station as soon as possible.

"Pack the things you need, then we will go."

A nod. Mokuba went to the bathroom, locked the door behind him and sighed again. Before they went off, he would take a shower once more. And once he finally got his new clothes, he would throw these ones away immediately.

~...~

Ryou had been halfway through packing, two big bags full of clothes and the one with the jewelry as well. That whole thing probably weighed way too much for him, why would he bother with it in the first place? And what had he even picked up so far? Why so many clothes? But even though he thought about it, the bags kept on getting heavier and heavier, wouldn't even want to close anymore when he heard the water.

Drip, drip, flowing through the pipes, fast and hot, or cold, way too cold, without the slightest bit of any mercy at all.

He finished with his doing, closed up the bags, dragged them out to the hallway in front of the door, went back to his room - to some room. He took off the white coat, pulled out what he needed, opened up the closet to take out another one. It wasn't white, had the color of dirt, hadn't been ever worn because of it.

A gift from his father, from the man that- he didn't think the thought to its end, pulled over the jacket, wrapped it up, before putting inside what was needed. The white coat remained on the floor.

He waited for the child to get ready, took a seat, trying to get his hands to stop shaking. Why would they shake? The weight must have been too much for them, but it didn't matter. He could work with that, would work with that until it was over, would...

Time must have begun to pass by at last, because the next thing he noticed was the boy in front of him, waving with his good arm, annoyed, rolling his eyes.

"Wake up, I'm done, we are leaving."

"Fine."

He stood up, went to grab the bags.

"Why did you change it?"

"This one is warmer."

"It's cleaner at least. Take better care of it than with the last - where are you going?"

It was an impulse he couldn't help but follow, couldn't control it and didn't want to either. It was fine, this would be the first and last answer to the calls.

He returned to the bags once he was done, pulled them up even with his protesting arms, before leaving the place he had grown up in once and for all, following the black-haired child to whatever place it had chosen to go to.

The stove kept singing, as the door was closed behind them for the last time.


	8. Chapter 8

"It's a lovely gun, don't you think, Seto?"

The white-haired held the weapon in his hands like it was a treasured gift, tiny and delicate, and not aiming at him, a finger on the trigger. "Do you want me to tell you where I found it?"

"I really couldn't care less-"

A shot fell, missing him by a hair's length and getting stuck in the wall behind him. It did make him pause, but not because he was intimidated by it, not at all. It hadn't been the first time someone had threatened to shoot him, it wouldn't be the last.

"Did you come to waste my time and furniture? I have other things to worry about, your mood swings are not of my concern-"

Another shot. God, how ridiculous.

"Take a look at it. Come on, or the next one will go into your leg."

Who had even let in the maniac with a gun? He pointed the other to come closer, refusing to stand up from his seat behind the desk. He didn't really pay any attention to the thing that was almost shoved into his face at first, too caught up in thinking about who to fire for this poor excuse of a terror attempt, but then the familiar insignia of his company caught his eye, silver letters sparkling in the dim light of the afternoon sun.

"From where-"

The gun was slammed on the table in front of him, the face of the other suddenly way too close in his personal space. The grin on the other's face was madly, and hadn't it been for his own rising interest in the matter, he would have punched him already.

"Oh, from nowhere special. I was babysitting the clean up of the mess two of your employees made in my territory, you see?"

A hand ran over his face, mockingly gently, as if inviting him to finally punch the other. A well aimed punch, preferably right under the chin. Or the nose perhaps, so that he could see those eyes water from the impact.

"And as I overlooked it, asking myself just _how_ stupid a human can be, I found this", he held up the gun, as if it wasn't obvious already, "lying around on the ground like no one could care less. And do you want to know what else was there, right next to it?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me-"

He was interrupted again by the other, who seemed eager to speak even more, as another item was almost shoved into his face, golden and sparkling, while the hand was still at his cheek, nails forcing themselves into his skin, nearly piercing it open.

"Say, what do you see?"

"A bracelet-"

"A bracelet that has been missing for days now. A bracelet that has been stolen out of _my_ place, together with my _vessel!"_

To the end the voice became louder, the white-haired was almost screaming into his ear at this point, eyes mad in anger. 

"So? Are you accusing me to have stolen from you or did you just come in here to molest me?"

Something else flashed through the other's eyes, the anger disappeared at once, made way for amusement of a bitter kind. He was let go, the other stepped back a few steps, the gun resting loosely in his hand.

"Accusing you? Your master's loyal dog? I wouldn't dream of it - I'm accusing the rat that wields your name, Seto."

The brown-haired ignored the way the phantom touch was still lingering on his cheek, refusing to show his growing anger. He wanted to rip the gun out of the other's hand and shoot until it was empty, wanted to show him what he would get for stepping into his place and insulting him like that - but he knew better than to fall for provocation as simple like that, kept calm.

"So a rat is all that it takes in order to rob you?"

Another shot, even closer to his head than before, harassing his hair, pushing it away.

"Cut it. I'm not in the mood. A whole drawer of jewelry and my vessel have been stolen, and the guards description of the thief just _happens_ to match the one that the two men - well it's one now - have given as well. A small child, black hair, blue eyes and the gun with your logo. A family treasure perhaps?"

"Did you find anything else in the apartment? Finger prints, hair, any form of DNA? Guards will tell much when you put words in their bleeding mouths. Especially when they failed at their job."

"A sample of hair, fingerprints and the recording of the camera, both ready to be examined by you. After you confirmed the identity I will get to the hunt. You wouldn't mind then, would you?"

He ignored the subtle threat, the way the other was gleaming in glee and anger, controlled his face enough to raise a brow. "You're saying a child broke in your apartment, took your stuff and your vessel, while no one could stop him? That sounds more of a joke than an actual fact."

"Do you see me laughing?"

"You surly make a joke of yourself. The video?"

At the snap of the pale boy's fingers, the door to his office opened, a blonde guy brought in the disk, ready to be played.

Seto watched the recorded video in silent resignation, suppressed the urge to sigh when the boy took off the mask and revealed himself. Had Mokuba always been this stupid?

"Why are you showing me this in the first place, Bakura?"

He already knew who to search for, why even bother with alarming him before it was time for make actual demands? He should just get to the point and leave.

"Honestly?"

The white-haired put the gun on the table, sending his henchman away with the wave of a hand.

"Because I like you. I know if I went at it the usual way, you would have thought of a way to use the shown apathy of my vessel against me, will analyze that video until you found enough details to make it look like they have planned it all together, if not that it wasn't the fault of the one with the gun at all."

"So?"

"As much as I would like to taunt you with the promise of a new slave with your eyes, I want my vessel back more."

So that was what it was about.

"You want me to search for him."

A smile found its way on the other's face, satisfied at last, since he already knew that the "deal" stood.

"I'm merely giving you the opportunity to find what's mine before I find what's yours. It would save us both a lot of trouble, such as taking this "problem" to his majesty himself for one, don't you agree?" Since he knew that the brown-haired wouldn't answer, the other went on immediately, sliding the weapon over to him. "You see, hurting children isn't that much fun in the end, even if they clearly deserve it. Do you understand?"

He wanted the pet back that had been let go under his very nose.

"I do."

"Good." The white-haired turned away to leave the room, turned back once again as the door opened for him.

"If my vessel is hurt because of this, I will carry your brother's hands to you myself, and let the matching head be sent to you by delivery afterwards. I won't tolerate-"

He wanted to grab the gun and just shoot, interrupt the other and tell him to leave already if _he_ didn't want it to hit next time. He suppressed the urge, together with his anger, kept calm.

"-anyone hurting him, not even you. Are we clear?"

"I got you the first time. Don't cause havoc in my territory. And Bakura, keep in mind that the threats goes in both ways. I don't care about that treasure, I will replace the small fortune. You will not lay hand on what is mine."

_If you know what is good for you._

Silence, low and heavy. Then the white-haired laughed, lifted his hands.

"Get my vessel and everything is good. As I said, hurting children to get a point made is no fun."

He left, smirking like he knew more than him and was amused by it greatly, not looking back as the other guy closed the door silently, head bowed in respect or disinterest or whatever really. Once Seto was alone at last, he put away the gun before he could destroy his own property even more, finally allowed himself to sigh.

When had the other become that stupid? He would have acknowledged the guts the boy had needed for breaking into Bakura's apartment in the first place - despite having been under house arrest at that time - to even steal away the treasure the bastard seemed to desire the most, he really would have- Had the idiot not immediately embarrassed himself and him with this act of stupidity.

It couldn't be changed now. The brown-haired pulled out the phone, the number already in the system, the other only taking a second to answer.

"Isono, get that remaining worker to me, as fast as possible." Now it was time to find out what Mokuba had done in the car to begin with, and why the gun wasn't with him anymore, as that had been the last connection to the Kaiba name. What a disgrace.

"He is currently in surgery-"

"My order stands."

"Understood. We will keep him alive until you're done then."

The line went dead, and Seto sighed again. Off all the time to disappear and get into trouble, Mokuba had to choose this day (to be found out). He had overlooked him sneaking out for several days till now, but it seemed like even something as simple as that, was too much to handle for him, weak as he was.

And he still had to report back to the self proclaimed new emperor of Japan, otherwise he would never hear the end of that whole "your past self" thing- He concentrated, made a call, told the staff to get to searching already, for every clue of a child somewhere alone, throwing around money that wasn't his, or any white-haired that wasn't Pegasus. He empathized on the last part, before ending that call as well.

He would deal with this later on. If Mokuba and Bakura's vessel still were together - which was likely, Mokuba couldn't help himself but to rely on other people - it wouldn't take that long to find them, and even the boy could take care of himself that long. If needed, he would use the vessel until there was nothing to use anymore, at least that much, their name had taught him so far. Using others ruthlessly until one was at the top of them all.

They would find him soon enough, hopefully he wouldn't be even dumber than before at then. Not that he cared about his brother. It was a principle to take him back.

~...~

For all that he had lived through in the last three days, the train ride to the countryside of Japan and outside of Domino was going very slowly. It was almost as if riding with the bus, only faster and with even more people. They had to stand at first, inside a tiny corner of the vehicle, and the black-haired had thought that the mass of people would crash him with all they had got, the terror from inside the car coming back immediately.

But since Ryou had been calm during it all, had shielded him without even blinking, he soon had found the nerve to suppress it, to focus. Just because of one time he couldn't allow himself to be scared forever, that would be pathetic. As they got further and further away from the city, the crowd lessened bit by bit, until there was enough space to sit down comfortably.

Which they were doing right now, sitting and waiting for the time to pass by. Time didn't pass by though, no matter how much he looked at the disappearing buildings and changing scenery. It too reminded him of something he didn't want to think about, so he stopped looking in the end, shifted his gaze to the black-haired next to him.

Having bought himself a manga at the overpriced store at the train station, Ryou once again proved that he actually _could_ read. It should have been obvious to him at some point, but it was somehow comforting anyway. Even if the fact that it was in English and not in Japanese could be distracting.

"Isn't that the same story as on the poster?"

"It is."

Silence. The train came to a stop and a few people stepped outside, two slaves underneath them, visually marked by the chain around their necks, sparkling and rusty. No life in their eyes, none at all. The train started again.

"What is the story about?"

"A butler's daily work."

A butler? Wasn't that just about the most boring one of all? They had had a butler - still had - and his eyes were just as dead as the one who left just now, even though Seto was against mistreating the staff on purpose. Seto was against a lot of things, but only with the things that belonged to him. That didn't matter now.

"And you can read it?"

A nod. Silence, again, only the passing of surroundings as some sort of distraction. Pitiful and useless. Maybe he should've bought himself a manga too - no, of course not, he needed to act better now. More like an adult, only dump children were scared easily, not adults. He could do it.

For the lack of anything better to do, he finally fished out the address and station of their - _his_ \- new home. For now. It wasn't really a home, would only serve as a stepping stone for what he had planned- and it would do its job good.

The not quite casket around his left arm was beginning to go on his nerves, even if it also stopped hurting because of it. Good thing that he was right handed.

Good thing that the car crash didn't kill him.

Time should pass already, this was getting boring. Ryou was still reading. About half the volume was done by now. Which meant not even half an hour had passed. The trip would take 4 hours and about two had passed by now at best. This was a complete waste of time. He wouldn't admit that he was bored, because that would be childish, but this was getting boring.

"Ey."

No answer, he was completely ignored. Right, wrong approach.

"What is the daily work of a butler?"

Had it not been in English, he would've read along or taken away the manga to read it himself. Now he was asking questions like a preschooler. Pathetic.

Green eyes looked at him, the boy let go the page he had been on.

"Not much. He takes care of the mansion I guess."

"And people read this?"

A nod. Mokuba played with the idea of telling the other to translate the words for him, but somehow couldn't get the question - the order - out for some reason. Didn't matter. He would concentrate on how to deal with all of this later. He would. He definitively would.

~...~

The house was huge, but not as huge as the mansion he had lived in till now. It would do.

"Come on already, stop slagging behind!"

"The bags are heavy."

The black-haired was even slower than before and Mokuba couldn't believe that he had noticed the heavy breathing only now. Had Ryou even slept in these days? Wait, he didn't care about that, the slave was only here, because otherwise he might have run back to his - to his family? The boy shook his head in order to get those useless thoughts out and repeated his words. Once Ryou finally stood at the top of the hill as well, they stepped into the house, slowly, as if worried someone could stand behind some corner and grab them at any moment.

(He did at least. The other couldn't care less with how apathetically he stepped on everything that possibly could make some noise.)

It seemed to be larger from the inside, even though that wouldn't be possible. Or would it?

"Let's look through the rooms for now. I will decide what to do by tomorrow."

A nod. They went - slowly - through the place, looked at it ( ~~looking for someone to be hidden in there. He would choose one hallway and have it always be lightened, he didn't trust the darkness anymore)~~ , looked at every single room, as full of dust as the apartment of the boy next to him. It looked haunted through and through, but that didn't matter, because it was large and the land surrounding it was even larger, the property was way too huge for the paid price. They came to the end of the house at last, a room with large windows, overlooking the entire land that was belonging to the house. A former living room of some European aristocrat thinking Japan was a fun place to live in. Or maybe a rich Japanese thinking the European style was a fun way to live in, it didn't matter.

It told him however, that it couldn't be that old. (No, actually that told him nothing. Only that he had a free list to chose the ghosts living in here; Japanese or European.) The windows showed nothing but pitch darkness right now, but in the morning it would give the best view of the whole house. This would be his work room, here he could overview everything while also not leaving the house at all.

Now to find a room to sleep in. One without any windows. The stairs made creepy sounds that told him that it was either bad build or old, or both, and the black haired behind him didn't make it any better. The rooms on the second floor looked just like the one beneath them. And everywhere was dust and stuff that didn't belong on the floor (why were there so many wires?), making it even more difficult to not step on anything.

Maybe one with large windows after all? What would be worse in the long run - not that he planned to stay here for long, but just to make sure - he had to think ahead after all. No windows would ensure that no one could appear magically inside his room while he slept - not that he was afraid of that - but without them the room would be a pure torture chamber during the day, not being able to know what was going on wasn't a good solution either. Would he even bother to spent time in there during the day?

A loud crunch could be heard suddenly, ringing through the whole hallway and making him jump.

"Watch your steps already!"

"Understood."

No, no he wouldn't spend any time there during the days, it would be fine to go for one without any windows. But no matter through how many rooms he looked, they all had windows inside them. He wasn't really surprised, only angry at himself and at the house he had bought. Fine, he would just take any room then.

In the end he choose the one closest to the stairs. It had huge windows too, but it was also the only room that had a key. Until they found the others - if they found the others - this one would have to do.

Now, as for the other.

"Take the room next to me. Put the bags down, then get back here."

A nod, and the other was leaving, disappearing out of sight with the silent closing of the door. He was alone again. He went around in his room (room for now), opened the closet, trying to not trip across one of the many wires. Why were there so many wires? Who had put them there? Would it harm the house to remove them? Would it be even safe to remove them?

The closet was safe - of course it was. And even if he felt silly for even needing to do it, once he looked underneath the bed, not seeing anyone there as well, he felt better, if only slightly.

He would get to bed once the other was back for the final orders for today. He would lock the door, take the key to bed with him and make sure the windows were locked as well. No mistake, no consequences to suffer from it. He sat down on his poor excuse of a bed, waited. Continued to wait, listening for any sign of the other, but nothing came of it. What was taking him so long? Had he forgotten the world while staring outside of the windows again?

After a while he grew tired of waiting, left the room in order to get to the other, suppressed the urge to roll his eyes when he saw the black-haired sitting on the bench of an open window, staring just like he had thought he would do. Years of imprisonment and all that, sure, but there was nothing to see right now! He turned on the light in the room. "Get down there Ryou."

The boy did, almost tripping over his own legs during it, looking down to him in silence. The bags were lying on the floor like he had let go of them all at once, not able to handle them any longer. Well, he had said that they were heavy.

"We will stay here for a while, got it? Try to get some sleep instead of staring outside the whole night."

A nod. He was about to leave it at that, but wasn't ready to turn around yet and go back into his own room. He had left the light on, hadn't he? He wouldn't need to look at every corner all over again, he wouldn't act so childish.

"Come and help me with the bed. It's full of dust, I want to shake out the blanket."

"Sure."

That was all that it took, for another pair of footsteps to follow behind him as he went back to his still lightened room. Together, they heaved the blanket through the window - he actually had to suppress the need to tell the other to not fall out too with how bad he looked - and let gravity and force do their best with it. It was still completely disgusting when they pulled it back, but it would do for a night. Or a year, depending on how this would - no, it would work. He wouldn't be here for long.

"That's all. Leave."

A nod, no more words were spoken, leaving him in complete silence and a light that was as far away from the bed as it could get. He locked the windows with embarrassingly shaking hands, rushed to the bed while cursing himself for this childish act. Why should a fucking bed be a safe place? How did that kind of logic even add up in his mind? He - still sitting on the bed, refusing to even let a leg hang over it - got off his coat, pulled the blanket over him and forced his eyes closed.

Just to open them a second later, groaning on the inside. He really forgot to lock the door. At this rate he would have to go through the whole ordeal of looking everywhere once more. It couldn't be helped now. He stood up and repeated everything, only to end up even more tired and in a worse mood than before. This time his eyes closed he refused to open them again, no matter what his ears wanted him to believe was there in the luring darkness outside of his room.


End file.
